


A Burning Patience

by Mazarin221b



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Two people who have no idea what they're actually doing, light kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>James stares, gobsmacked. “Is that a knot around his… You know what? Maybe this is one of those things we should think about first. I don’t even know. Maybe it was a one-time thing.” Robbie glances at James face, now slightly pink across his cheekbones. “I can’t believe you’re even looking at this.”</i>
</p>
<p> <i>“Well, it’s something you like, now, isn’t it? I’m not so set in my ways I can’t at least give something new a try.”</i></p>
<p>It's always a good idea to try new things in a relationship, right? You never know what you might find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Burning Patience

**Author's Note:**

> With love and gratitude to my lovely betas Sc010f, HiddenLacuna, and Meritriciouss.

 

Robbie Lewis may not have had a regular sex partner for almost a decade, but even he can’t miss the way James’ eyes widen and go dark when a quick tussle in bed causes Robbie to lose his balance, topple forward and inadvertently pin James’ wrists to the bed above his head.

“Oh,” Robbie says, shifts and snugs his knees tighter around James’ hips. “You _like_ that.”

James nods, mouth open and panting and _desperate_ , god, so Robbie dips down and kisses him, keeping the fine bones of James’ wrists under his palms.  He can feel James’ cock hot against his belly, against his own, and seeing James stretched out beneath him and held fast by Robbie’s own hands cascades arousal down his spine and leaves him burning. He shifts, rocks, pushes into the sensation with James’ lips hot against his ear, until the rhythm of his thrusts matches James’ harsh breaths and they both come, shuddering.

Afterward, he kisses the reddened skin around James’ wrists, his sleepy and sated mouth, and settles him against his chest, thinking.

He and Val never got up to elaborate games in their sex life—oh, Val had surprised him once by tying herself to the bed with fuzzy purple handcuffs, wearing a sheer pink negligee—but as a general rule they had settled into a sweet, comfortable passion over the years. But tonight had felt immediate, real and raw in a way he’d not experienced in a long, long time, and he was surprised how easy it had been to catch James’ mood and go with it.

“You seem awfully serious,” James says from below his chin. “Something the matter?”

Robbie smiles, kisses the top of his head. “No, just—is that a thing you like, then? Being held down?”

James squirms until his chin is resting on Robbie’s chest and he’s looking him full in the face with those big grey eyes. “Don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “But all evidence seems to point that way.”

Robbie’s surprised. “Had you never, before?”

“No, never. And I see that smug look, Robert Lewis. That’s your ‘Aren’t I clever’ smile.”

“I can’t help it. I never thought I’d get the first of anything, this late in me life.” And he _can’t_ help it; he knows he’s grinning like an idiot, and miraculously, James is grinning right back.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Robbie wasn’t joking when he’d told James he didn’t expect to have any first time experiences—for himself or for James—at this time in his life. He’s 57 years old, for heaven’s sake, was married for almost 30 years and is now in a relationship with a 35-year-old man. It’s not like they’re blushing virgins, either of them.  But it seems there’s still a bit left to be learned, and Robbie would be lying if he said the idea of exploring this new thing a bit further didn’t turn him on, even a little bit.

“What the hell are you looking at?” James asks as he comes into the living room later the next day, where Robbie has set up James’ laptop on his knees, a bondage website on the screen and a beer on the coffee table. James’ mouth twists a little, then purposefully picks up Robbie’s beer and puts a coaster under it. “You’re going to give me a virus.”

“Oh, haha,” Robbie says. “And I will not. This is … just a bit of background research.” Robbie’s trying to be casual, but still a bit careful. He’s not sure how exactly to talk about this – they’d been sleeping together for months now but some things were still a bit delicate, at least on his end. And given what he’s been reading—the psychology behind it all, the why of it—leads this into territory he and James don’t traverse too often. Regardless, he’s interested enough to at least attempt to talk about it, and no time like the present.  Robbie pats the couch next to him and James has a seat, pressing himself up against Robbie’s side and tucking in close enough he can look at the screen as well.

“Wow,” is all he says.

Robbie can feel himself flush. “I remembered some of this from when we worked on the Massey case. Not that I was all that keen on it then – exploitative, I thought – but I thought I’d see what I made of it now.”

James nods, takes a breath. “It’s quite, um. Inventive.”

“Yeah,” Robbie says. He clicks on a picture of a man, his arms tied from shoulders to wrists in intricate knots. It’s artistic, he supposes, but it looks uncomfortable, to be honest. “Any of this doing anything for you?”

James stares, gobsmacked. “Is that a knot around his… You know what? Maybe this is one of those things we should think about first. I don’t even know. Maybe it was a one-time thing.” Robbie glances at James face, now slightly pink across his cheekbones. “I can’t believe you’re even looking at this.”

“Well, it’s something you like, now, isn’t it? I’m not so set in my ways I can’t at least give something new a try.”

“Okay,” James says, and that beautiful, shy smile of his peeps out for just a second. “Thank you.”

Whatever back of the mind discomfort Robbie is still harbouring vanishes in the face of James’ quiet gratitude, and affection tugs at his heart. “Come give us a kiss,” he says, and leans forward to put the laptop on the coffee table before pulling James onto his lap and kissing him breathless.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Yeah, definitely not a onetime thing,” James pants, threading his fingers through Robbie’s hair. Robbie kisses James’ thigh once before climbing back up the bed and straddling James’ chest.

“Thought you might like it.” Robbie strokes himself, the need to get off, to come, almost too much after watching James fall apart so spectacularly with his hands pinned at his sides by Robbie’s and his cock down Robbie’s throat.

James pushes himself up the bed a bit until his head is propped up on the pillows. “It was lovely. Now come here.”

Robbie falls forward and braces his hands on the wall above the bed, his cock just touching James’ lips until James opens his mouth, licks and sucks and urges Robbie to fuck his mouth until the heat and James’ clever tongue overwhelm him and he comes, gasping.

“You’ll be the death of me, lad,” he says, and collapses back onto the bed.

“Best way to go, though,” James replies, and drags the back of his hand across his mouth, a little post-blowjob habit he has that Robbie finds incredibly sexy. Christ, everything about him is sexy; the long, lean lines of his body, his brilliant, intuitive mind, his ridiculous poetry-quoting habits and the wide, brilliant smile he saves only for Robbie.

He couldn’t be more in love with him if he tried.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They’re kept busy the next few weeks by leading a team of investigators looking into a triple homicide with one child victim, an inquiry that is draining and emotional, long and far-reaching, with information coming in at all hours from as far away as Argentina and California. Busy days stretch late into the night, and they’re both too brain-dead when they collapse into bed at night to even consider getting up to anything other than a good night’s sleep.

Robbie misses him, misses having time for even a cuddle on the sofa. They hadn’t had a chance to talk much after that last spectacular blowjob before the case started, and Robbie is starting to feel the low pulse of arousal at inconvenient times. James has been giving him some intense and lingering looks the last week or so, too, so Robbie’s not surprised to wake up to James gazing fondly at him their first Sunday off in a month, but his gaze seems a little more thoughtful than amorous.

“Oi,” Robbie chides. “Unless you plan to put that mouth of yours to better use I’d go back to sleep. It’s only seven.” Robbie smiles, content to lie muzzy and warm for the moment, so he pokes James in the ribs until he snorts a laugh and Robbie can pull James across his chest, wrap his arms around his shoulders. “What’s got your brain switched on this morning? And don’t deny it – I know that look. Spill.”

James huffs, obviously deciding whether lying would be the better option, but then he disentangles himself from Robbie’s arms and sits up, legs crossed, a stripe of the morning sun breaking across his face and chest, highlighting the hollows and planes of his body in soft, golden light. Robbie sucks in a breath, entranced, but fighting a niggling worry at James’ serious expression.

“I want to try,” James starts, then pauses, swallows heavily. “It. I want to try it.”

Robbie can feel his eyebrows rise. He’s pretty sure he knows what James is saying, but he had better clarify, just to be certain. “Try what, love?”

James rolls his eyes. “What we talked about earlier. Tying me up. I’d like you to tie me up, when we have sex.” Robbie doesn’t say anything yet, simply opens his arms when James swings a leg over Robbie’s hips and braces himself on his hands over Robbie’s body. He lowers his head until his lips are barely a teasing distance from Robbie’s own.  “Then I’d like you to fuck me,” he whispers, his voice like dark honey, slow and smooth and warm.

Robbie feels that voice pour over him, his chest tightening and his heart shuddering to keep up enough blood to his brain. There’s not enough air in the room for this. “Jesus,” he wheezes.  “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely not. That’s why safewords were invented.”

“Safewords, eh?” Robbie brushes his nose down James’ neck, kisses the hollow of his throat and smiles at James’ quiet moan. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And it’s true, he doesn’t. He’s got no interest in the other things people get up to in some of those sorts of relationships. But the psychology of this is different, he knows. He can feel the need for James itching under his skin, the desire to give him what he wants, to take this, this _thing_ between them they have, that they’ve made, somewhere unexplored and new.

 “You won’t,” James says. “I know you won’t.”

The level of trust he’s placing in his hands leaves Robbie stunned. His enigmatic, quiet lover, the man who could give statues a run for their money some days, who only trusts Robbie most days and Laura on odd days, is asking to give himself over in a gesture of complete and unequivocal faith. Robbie is awed, and humbled, and hopes like hell he doesn’t screw it up six ways to Sunday.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“So let me get this straight,” Robbie says, and realizes he’s gesturing at James with a fillet knife and quickly puts it on the worktop. “You want your safeword to be _miserere_?”

“Yep.  It’s Latin for ‘have mercy.’ And hand me the salt, would you?”

Robbie automatically hands over the little ceramic dish of kosher salt James insisted on buying and stares mindlessly as James seasons big chunks of aubergine on a baking sheet. “Bit of an odd choice, isn’t it?”

“Why?” James bumps Robbie out of the way of the oven and puts the pan in, heat radiating from the open door.  “It’s supposed to be unusual enough that I’m not likely to say it in the heat of passion.” James’ voice goes whispery and low at the last, and he playfully bites Robbie’s earlobe on the way out of the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

Robbie shivers and braces his hands on the worktop, a hazy vision of tangled arms and legs distracting him until he hears a sharp sizzle from the pan. “Christ!” he says. “Could we not talk about this when I’ve got the fish on? Save it for something easy, like roast.” Robbie quickly flips the fish over, fortunately only a bit browner than he’d like, not completely ruined.  James leans casually against the worktop, a glass of wine in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“If I’d known I could distract you that easily by talking about sex I’d have used it to my advantage years ago.”

Robbie ignores him for a moment, lifts the fish from the pan onto their plates, then turns back.  “If you’d realized over the years that every time you said the word sex I wanted you on your knees I’d probably have been dismissed for sexual harassment.” Robbie takes in James’ shocked face and pulls the roasted aubergine from the oven.  He does so love to surprise him, even after all these months.

James puts his wine down, pulls the spatula from Robbie’s hand and draws him into a long, lingering kiss. “Years, is it? There are unexplored depths to you, Mr. Lewis,” he murmurs, and Robbie smiles against his lips.

“ _Miserere,_ Mr. Hathaway?”

“ _Miserere_ , Mr. Lewis.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Robbie spends the next few weeks trying to read up on BDSM, finds a discreet website that sells something they call “bondage tape” that looks like a roll of bright blue plastic but he’s assured is thin and easily removed, and tries not to drown in nerves.  It’s all a bit overwhelming and a few things look a tad scary but he’s well in it now, a little niggling panic underlying the fascination. He’s not sure when they’ll try this; he wants to wait for the right mood, the right moment to suggest that _now’s the time_ , unless James beats him to it. He tries not to be disappointed that James hasn’t brought it up again, and wonders what that says about him.

The perfect opportunity arises late one Saturday afternoon. James has been out rowing, and comes back sweaty and hot and headed for the shower as soon as he walks in the door.  Robbie waits until the shower has been running a few moments before slipping into the bathroom with him.

God, he’s lovely, Robbie thinks, eyeing the foggy silhouette behind the glass door. Fit and lean and gorgeous to hold on to, and the low burn of arousal in his belly is threatening to make itself known in other, more obvious ways when James shuts the water off and opens the door, water beaded up on all that acreage of pale, perfect skin. Christ.

“Hello there,” James says, and pulls his towel off the rack, starts drying himself. The blue tile of the bathroom makes the soft, golden colours of James seem that much sharper, radiant. “Something I can do for you?” He winks at Robbie’s stare, wraps the towel around his waist and Robbie leans in, kisses his shoulder.

“Got a little surprise for you.”

“Oh?” James looks intrigued, and the way he curls a hand around Robbie’s hip is promising.

Robbie smiles.  “Bedroom. If you’re ready.”

A slow smile spreads across James mouth, his eyes bright and suddenly hungry. He kisses Robbie, hard, and bolts for the bedroom.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

They’d decided in advance what position James would take; on his knees, wrists taped to ankles and chest on the bed.  It’s a simple position, yet incredibly intimate, and as Robbie unwraps the tape he stops to admire the view; James, all six foot two of him folded in on himself, strangely beautiful and compact, the long line of his spine slightly rounded and the vertebrae tempting Robbie to draw his fingernail down the rough contour to the top of his arse. James shivers.

“Still all right?” Robbie asks, as he wraps the blue tape around James’ left wrist and ankle. James nods, but Robbie can see the tension climbing in the muscles of his thigh, in the white knuckles of his fist. The pocketknife on the bedside table looms large at the corner of Robbie’s vision, and he’s ready to snatch at it and cut James free at the first syllable of his safeword. The second binding is a bit easier, now that he’s got the hang of it, and when he tosses the roll of tape onto the floor he takes a deep breath.

James looks … uncomfortable. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed, fingers flexing under the pressure of the bindings.  Even his toes are curled. Robbie remembers the sweet line of his shoulders when he had his wrists pinned to the bed, the way his neck relaxed into a beautiful, supple curve, arousal so powerful it threatened to overwhelm them both. There isn’t a hint of that now, James’ jaw tense, teeth set into his lip and cock completely flaccid.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Robbie asks, because hell, what else is there to do but continue? He supposes he could refuse; he could use James’ safeword himself and call the whole thing off. But James wanted to try, so he’s going to at least let him decide for himself.

“Please, Robbie,” James says, and he sounds more on the verge of panicked rather than desperate, so Robbie kneels behind him,  runs the flat of his palms down James’ back, over his hips, a soothing gesture he hopes will help him relax. It seems to help some, but when Robbie slides his fingers around the top of James’ thighs, fingertips just barely caressing the root of his cock, James jerks away.

“Miserere,” he says, and his voice wavers. “Please.”

Shit. “Okay, hang on,” Robbie says, and dives for the knife and slices through the tape in seconds. As soon as he’s free, James collapses forward onto the bed, face mashed into the pillow. There’s a snuffling sound coming from James, his back shaking, and Robbie is horrified for all of five seconds until he realizes James is laughing.

“What on Earth has gotten into you?” Robbie demands, and hauls James over by the shoulder, almost embarrassed. “What’s so funny, eh? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, oh God, no,” James says, and hiccups down a laugh. “I just…I felt like a Christmas goose, all trussed up like that.” He giggles. “It was probably the least sexy thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Robbie chuckles a little, mollified that it was the situation, and not him, that set James off. “Should I remember the cranberry sauce next time?” he asks, which sends James off into another fit of giggles. Watching James laugh is enough to get Robbie going until he’s laughing so hard he can’t sit up, and by the time their laughter dies away they’re laying side-by-side, flat against the mattress.

“So you obviously don’t like that,” Robbie says, staring at the ceiling. “And I have to say, you not liking it meant I didn’t like it, either.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” James turns his head and looks at Robbie, his concern evident in the creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Nah, love, you won’t disappoint me, not ever. I just hated seeing you like that. I’d have gone on for maybe a bit longer, but it was pretty clear you weren’t having a good time.”

James props himself up on his elbow, his brow furrowed and his brain obviously starting up again. “I wonder why, though. I mean, I obviously like it when you hold me down, that’s clear. But when you taped me up, I was nervous right from the start, and then it was just ridiculous. Like I was playacting.”

“Performance anxiety?” Robbie asks, and turns so he can get a hand on James’ hip and tuck himself under James’ chin in prime neck-kissing position. He may not like the tying-up bit, but there’s still a naked James Hathaway in his bed and damned if he’s going to miss out on that.  The skin of James’ neck and chest is warm and smooth, and Robbie savours it, pressing open-mouthed kisses and long licks everywhere he can reach while curling his hand around James’ slowly hardening cock.

“Oh, that’s nice,” James sighs. “And no, I don’t think so. Maybe—yes, that’s it, a bit harder—a control thing.” James pulls Robbie’s leg over his hip, keeps his hand hooked into the back of Robbie’s knee.  “Or a self-conscious one.”

“Hm,”  Robbie says, and pushes James over onto his back. He kneels over him, slowly pulls the remains of the bondage tape from his wrists with gentle tugs. He’s got an idea of what James might be after, something a little more complex than either of them had considered before.  “I think maybe you’re right. Think you’d be up for another little experiment?”

James smiles, ducking his head and almost a bit shy. “Why, Mr. Lewis, I do believe you’re trying to seduce me.”

“That’s generally the idea,” Robbie says, and leans over to fumble in the bedside drawer for the lube. “Turn over for me?”

James gives Robbie a wicked smirk and does, pulling his knees under him and leaning down onto his elbows, arse in the air. The pose is deliberately brazen and Robbie can feel his heart beating so hard he’s sure his pulse is visible under his skin.

“Look at that,” he says appreciatively, and pours a bit of lubricant onto his fingers. “Let’s get you a bit more interested in the proceedings, shall we?”  Robbie draws a finger down the crack of James’ arse, slicking the smooth skin and pressing in just slightly, enough that he can see the sensation slide down James’ spine. He teases a moment before lifting and caressing James’ balls, hot and heavy in his hand. Robbie loves the feel of James finding arousal under his fingers, the sensation of James’ cock lengthening and thickening in his hand until he’s fully erect. That he can do that makes his heart clench, makes him think of ridiculous words like forever and always, and of love.

Robbie caresses James’ cock with one hand while slowly working him open with the other. James isn’t particularly loud in bed; his short huffs of breath, his sighs and the occasional “oh yes,” usually lead Robbie down the right path. He takes his hand away from James’ arse for a moment to get a bit more lube when James reaches back and clamps his hand around Robbie’s thigh.

“Now, please,” he says, and Robbie slicks himself, enters James in a slow, sweet slide that has them both trembling and sweating by the end. Robbie’s already primed by their play, and the sensation of James’ arse tight around him has his vision going fuzzy at the edges for a moment.

“Give me your hands,” he says, and James holds his breath for a moment before carefully balancing himself on his knees and chest, placing his hands behind his back. The shift in position makes him clench down, all the sweeter when Robbie crosses James’ hands behind his back, braces himself by holding them down, and begins.

He tries to keep his thrusts slow, measured, but James is starting to moan, to rock back into him. The balance of holding James’ arms behind his back and not thrusting into him so hard he topples him onto the bed is making Robbie tense, sweat beading up along his hairline and dripping down his face. The room is warm in the late afternoon light, the sun slanting down so low the cracks of light between the curtains are flame orange.

Robbie can feel his orgasm building, a coil of heat in his belly, and when James stifles a cry and shoves himself back, hard, Robbie lets go enough to give James a squeeze and a stroke. There’s no way Robbie can keep hold of James’ arms with one hand and balanced on his knees, but to his amazement, James threads his fingers together and keeps them there on his own.

“That’s it, love,” he whispers, and leans forward to press a kiss between James’ shoulder blades. “Take what you need.” James does, the muscles of his back flexing as he meets Robbie’s strokes, long neck taking on that lovely arch he gets when he’s ready to go off. Robbie feels ready to go himself when James snaps his hips and shudders hard against him, his moan almost torn from his throat, arms still clasped together behind his back under Robbie’s barely-restraining hand, coming in long, rhythmic pulses. Robbie slows down for a moment, tries to give him time to recover, but James pulls his arms out of Robbie’s grasp. Robbie lets go immediately; holds James’ hips instead and uses the leverage to thrust harder, faster, until he can feel his body tighten, heat coiling in his groin and pushing him to an edge so fine it’s almost painful. James shoves back against him a tiny little bit and that’s all it takes, Robbie falls over the edge,  shaking apart at the seams and feeling like the world has been turned upside down.

“I’m not sure I’m still alive,” James says as they separate and collapse onto the bed, both scuffling to avoid the wet spot and ending up plastered together off to one side. The room is quiet and getting darker by the second, and Robbie lies quietly with James in his arms, content to let James’ brain work for a while, see if he sorts through the mix of what he’s just felt, experienced, and comes up with any clues about himself. The bondage websites called it aftercare, and Robbie isn’t sure that he really needs to talk himself as much as he needs to hear James sort it out.

He’s an odd duck, is his James, and the more Robbie thinks about it, the more he realizes James’ reaction isn’t about being bound, it’s about letting himself be bound, about trust, and giving Robbie the power to hold him when James knows that any time he could break away. Finding arousal and pride in the fact that he doesn’t.  But James isn’t talking yet, and it’s a bit worrisome.

“Figured it out yet?” Robbie asks into the quiet of the evening.

The body next to him is silent for a beat. “I think I have,” James replies. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“I can’t answer that for you. That’s for you to decide.”

James tucks himself more securely under Robbie’s arm. “I’ve always trusted you, you know that.”

“I do, yes.”

“I just … I like to feel it, sometimes.”

“Nothing wrong with that. And if you go off like that every time, I’m fine helping you along.” Robbie rolls them over so he can lean over James, kiss him lightly on the forehead. “We’ll agree, no more tying up. Just nice, normal wresting holds from now on.”

James chuckles. “I still can’t believe you bought bondage tape from a website. I should tell Laura, she’d be so proud.”

“Don’t you dare,” Robbie says warningly, but James is diving for his mobile on the bedside table and poking at it.

“Laura,” he dictates in a sing-song voice, “Robbie was ever so thoughtful, you won’t believe it—“

“Brat,” Robbie says, and tussles with James over the mobile. “You best not. I’d never hear the end of it.”

James’ arms are long and his reach higher, and he holds the mobile out so far Robbie can’t quite get to it. He knows James won’t really text Laura, but the wrestling is fun anyway, the urge to best James in this little game making him keep trying.  The tussling causes the duvet to slip from James’ naked body, leaving the bare curve of his arse showing. It’s a sight too tempting to resist, so Robbie hauls back and gives James’ rear a swat that is a bit harder than he intended, the crack of skin on skin echoing in the room.

They both pause and stare at each other, James shocked and Robbie internally wincing.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to be so —” he starts, but realizes James is looking at him, really looking, his pupils dilated and breathing shallow.

He slowly hands his mobile to Robbie, licks his bottom lip, then turns over onto his stomach, the pink imprint of Robbie’s hand outlined against his pale skin.

“I’d like another, _Sir_ ,” he says, and Robbie flushes down to his toes.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from: Die Slowly, Pablo Neruda
> 
> _Let's try and avoid death in small doses,_  
>  _reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing._
> 
> _Only a burning patience will lead_  
>  _to the attainment of a splendid happiness.”_


End file.
